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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24138577">We're A Mess</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaddySaysBow/pseuds/DaddySaysBow'>DaddySaysBow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Catastrophe [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Asexuals have sex too, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Fight me. You cant tell me this aint love, Knives, M/M, Rough Sex, existing marriage, im not apologizing for this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:47:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24138577</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaddySaysBow/pseuds/DaddySaysBow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some bloody love for my bloody lover. You been warned kids, Alastor ain't sunshine and rainbows under that bowtie.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alastor/Valentino (Hazbin Hotel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Catastrophe [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748773</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>We're A Mess</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey!<br/>Wrote this for a damn good reason and if ya dont like it get out. This is between monsters for monsters and good little kids should step off now.</p><p>There will be blood.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So everyone knows Alastor is a bit of a bitch at times. Not in the wimpy way but in the stuck up, sassy, I'll bite you in half if you squint wrong kind of way. Yeah it can be annoying but it's also fucking adorable.</p><p>At least I thought it was. Holy fuck I had never seen him <em>Bitchy</em>. With a capital fucking B. </p><p>I'll admit it wasn't his fault and that's what I keep reminding myself of every damn day. Not his fault, forgive him, not his fault, you love him, <em>not his fault so don't fucking strangle him!</em></p><p>Al got hit by a car. And not just tapped, not a spook, no Mel Gibson roll across the hood.</p><p>The Radio Demon got <em>smeared</em> by some uppity bastard in a van who was too coked out of his mind to know where he was or what the hell he did. I heard about it in detail from Alastor, the news, hell even the fam was blowing up my phone because Vox saw it all on security cameras.</p><p>Alastor walking down the street, minding his own damn business like he's more wont to do these days, and just-- BAM. Van took a whole leg off, smeared to jelly at whatever fucking ridiculous speed and Al is stunned on a brick wall and losing his angry shit in a very real kind of way and everything is blood. Everything. </p><p>And it's black. The van, the wall, his clothes. People around him that got hit in the spray. Oily black and fucking drenched like a tanker truck burst.</p><p>The rest of the footage is right on cue for the dumb fuck to be dragged from his seat by terrors of the void and ripped to pieces, his van is <em>trashed</em>, and Alastor had to prop himself up by his own shadow to give me a ring on his mic.</p><p>In public. On film. And you bet your sweet ass he didn't look peak for that shit.</p><p>By time I got there the adrenaline was gone and he was <em>white</em>. Yeah I get saving face and all but he wouldn't even let me help him into the car. Gave me that <em>look</em> that if I fussed one word he'd unzip my skin and wear me like a coat but the man couldn't even summon his own juju. Whatever screws he got were knocked so loose I half way looked for them.</p><p>Which led me to this. <em>This.</em> My new fresh hell of having Alastor the <em>queen fucking bitch</em> holed up in my penthouse while he heals and I'm stuck battling his attitude in waking hours and the godawful memory of what he looked like when I got him home.</p><p>Fucker should have died good. He should have <em>exploded</em>, from whatever force near tore him in half, ribs and shit sticking out of holes and so many broken bones he sounded like gravel in a wet bag.</p><p>The next time he says I'm too rough I might slap him. Bambi is fucking <em>sturdy</em>.</p><p>He slept a whole eight hours once I poured enough rum and opium into him, getting him set and wrapped up so shit would heal right. Most people don't know but that's a miracle. Alastor can go days without sleep and even then you have to bribe him for more than a nap. Drunk off his ass and exhausted scores about three, maybe four hours. </p><p>Eight scared me. So much so that whatever I was texting Vox had <em>him</em> worried and he was the one that shot me the footage. Started pulling that shit out of circulation and doing damage control because I sure as hell couldn't and damn if news wasn't flying fast.  </p><p>Alastor. The Radio Demon <em>The Boogeyman</em> of hell, splattered like road kill. </p><p>The deer jokes were bad.<br/>
The conspiracies to try harder next time were worse.</p><p>When he woke up he was barely lucid and bit half my hand off when I tried to check his head. I fed him, and fed him, and fuck I fed him the room service bitch and he was still snarling but eventually came back online and let me fucking <em>take care of him</em> like I wanted to. Bathe him - fucking hell if I don't bleed every time! - feed him, medicate his ass.</p><p>He tried to tell me some voodoo potion shit to make, refusing my pharmaceuticals, until he saw me try and I guess that was a failure. Opiates and rum it was! And his phone.</p><p>Don't get me started on his phone.</p><p>It's my fault. He got bored a while ago and I set him up on social media. Set him up <em>well</em>. Used some codes and got him onto the full net, the banned net, and since then he hasn't put the damn thing down and guards it like it holds his god damned soul! Three delirious days of trying to nursemaid a rabid bear trap and he'd rather look at his phone then me. Typing and reading and who the fuck knows what else, and too pissy to do more than growl at me.</p><p>A fucking week. A whole week of this shit and I am so very, very close to shooting the thing out of his hands and tossing the scrapes from the window and he <em>finally</em> gets his head out of his ass one day with a chipper 'Good Morning!' when I wake up.</p><p>Gods Alastor is the full package crazy.</p><p>Stage right to the next phase where he acts like everything is peachy despite being a cripple. Bones healed, mostly, guts all in place and willing to eat anything that halfway resembles food if it's in arms reach - I learned not to expect respect of <em>my</em> food in that range. But also-</p><p>Fuck. Alastor doesn't cry. He doesn't <em>weep</em>. But those first few days he would be fine one moment and fucking <em>devastated</em> the next. Eyes all static and his din grating like smashed metal and just...leaking. His face didn't crumple up, he didn't sob, just free flowing tears and he's staring at nothing and…</p><p>It hurt. I know he hurt and his pride was scattered and who wants to be an invalid ever, at all, but fuck! It <em>hurt</em> that I had to just sit and try to find some part of him I could pat or touch or anything that didn't make him hiss or recoil. </p><p>He'd cry, then maybe nap or just snap back to a wide glowing grin and pretend I hadn't just seen him shatter.</p><p>Now I've found out a new layer to my man, love of my life and answer to my dreams. </p><p>When he hurts he gets chatty. Like, talk you into a coma chatty and yes you better be paying attention and remember what he said or don't you love him chatty.</p><p>And the moment he can't do something that is all he fucking wants to do. Like. Walking.</p><p>It's taking him time to get a new leg regenerated and his remaining one was rough shape. I don't think I've seen him look at the growing stump once but he fucking <em>hates</em> the metal boot and straps holding his left in place. </p><p>Like a badger in a trap. He picks at it, claws and scrapes and I keep threatening to cut his damn nails off if he wont stop and he just snipes about cutting it all off if I won't <em>take</em> it off and it takes a lot for me to hide how scared it makes me that he <em>can't do it himself.</em></p><p>I'm telling myself it's just talk and posturing and he is being a good patient the only way he knows how, I need to believe that, but I don't. </p><p>I haven't seen anything of his shadows since his own fell apart getting him into the car. </p><p>When he wants to move I carry him, back and forth from the front room to bed, to the dining room while I botch cooking dinner or to the bathroom where he soaks in cold water for hours and taps on his phone. I get up early, painfully early, to carry him to my office before anyone makes it about the tower to see him in this state and sneak him back upstairs after hours just so I can get <em>some</em> work done. </p><p>Alastor has to sit still and it's driving us both mad. He's bored and flaring all his 20s diva colors as he runs out of distractions, and I haven't had a break or an outlet since I got the half broken call of 'I could use a ride, I might be dying!' that stopped my heart.</p><p>I'm done. I'm fucking done. Call me selfish or an asshole, call me any fucking name you got but I've been a good mate, a <em>fantastic</em> husband, and <em>I need Alastor to give me some love BEFORE I FUCKING SKULLFUCK MYSELF WITH A SHOTGUN. </em></p><p>And tonight, I'm making that my only priority. </p><p>--</p><p>Alastor is holed up in bed, barely visible under blankets pooled at his lap and draped over his head. Just the glow of his eyes and his phone telling me he's awake. The flicker up to me when I walk in is warm but I understand why he has complained for years about tech.</p><p>I'm jealous of a damn smart phone.</p><p>"Hey babe, can I steal you from your fans for a bit?" Lighting a lamp I see his smile twist, but victory feels good when he tosses the phone aside.</p><p>"They aren't my fans. Well, they are but they don't even know who I am! Being a mere name in the crowd is-" </p><p>"Humbling. I get it." I interrupt, shedding down to my boxers under his skeptical gaze. He makes grabby hands at my coat, a furrow between his eyes when I shake my head. </p><p>"Val...if you're not wearing it-" Alastor huffs, and I see frustration cross his face again. The frustration he cannot just fetch the garment himself.</p><p>"Not tonight babe." Before he can get angry I show him my second pair of hands and he goes still. Two long blades, thin as skinning knives but double edged. "I'd rather not have to wash the blood out."</p><p>"Oh. Have I been that insufferable?" He jokes but he watches me with a wariness I haven't seen in years when I crawl onto the bed, eyes trained on mine and the knife in sharp flicks. Instincts of an injured animal stuck in hell rising like hackles.</p><p>"Oh, you certainly have, babe. But these ain't for you." </p><p>Very slowly I grab his hands with my empty ones, proud of him when he not only allows it but doesn't flinch. Letting him watch the blades I press the handles into his hands, carding our fingers around them and holding his hostage. No sense letting him just jump to conclusions.</p><p>"Val...what is?" He looks utterly baffled and I <em>love</em> doing that to him. Wiping his smug look away.</p><p>"You've been a bitch. You've been stressful, mean, and damn near impossible…" I'm lecturing him as I lay out, picking him up by the hips like he's made of glass to set him on mine, arranging his wounded limbs while he huffs a whine of sharp pained static and keeps watching me with the same look he gets when I talk about editing software. Lost. "I love ya Bambi, love ya till the end, but I need ya and you need to relax and <em>this,</em>" I squeeze our hands and grind him down on my lap, already half hard because <em>fuck</em> that cute ass has the best curve, "gets us what we both need."</p><p>That little snarl of his, lips curled, tells me I'm answering a few of those questions.</p><p>"...How far am I allowed to go." My heart stutters at his question and if I wasn't so pent up on stress I'd feel like an idiot for my grin. Fuck, he never disapoints. </p><p>"Far as you like, baby. I trust you." To make my point I release his hands, curling mine up over my head in the leather strap <em>normally</em> used for his grip. Twist it around my wrists, bracing as he eyes me with a suddenly less than friendly but <em>interested</em> heat. It sweeps over me like praise and yes, yes that's enough to have my cock straining under him in the delicious torture of his weight.</p><p>"Trust you too, love." </p><p>It's all the warning I get before those blades slip between my lowest ribs and open me from sternum to sides like the gills of a fish. It doesn't hurt. It's sheer <em>agony</em>. It races like fire up my core and settles in the base of my skull with such weight I can't even hear the sound that makes my throat feel torn, too lost in the heat of my blood and the cold of the blades, but I <em>do</em> hear the low groan Alastor makes when he slips them out. </p><p>My back hits the bed again, released from the instinctual bow, and I watch him lick one. Than the other. </p><p>Over ragged breaths, focusing through that first wave of shock, I can hear him purring. </p><p>Damn. Fucking. Adorable.</p><p>"Curtains up, dear, shall the show go on?" Those blades come down crisscrossed under my throat when he leans to my face. Presses the sweetest kiss to my lips and lingers there. The hungry, glowing look in his eyes makes me groan but I see the concern too.</p><p>My little psycho loves me. </p><p>"Knock yaself out, babe. I'm here." He rewards me with a rock of his hips on mine - fuking tease - and bites me for a second kiss. All fangs and hot breath and fuck anyone who says he can't kiss because I could come then and there if he didn't back off to chuckle a dark note and open my collar bones to air.</p><p>Holy <em>fuck</em> those are sharp. It only stings after he pulls back, smearing blood down my chest with the flats before twisting the blades to carve lines that feel like twisting channels into my chest. It's hard to breath, he barely gives me time as he flicks and skins, sliding them under flesh and tugging long cuts that he then smooths back down to bone, sneaking small cat licks to blades when they aren't inside me. I feel my wrists giving over my head, that strap cutting flesh when I twist and pull, the headboard built for his strength and sustaining mine through the throes I cannot resist. But Alastor <em>purrs</em> and his static is sweet and musical and I am the <em>center of his universe</em>. </p><p>Right now I own him. Completely. </p><p>My husband carves me apart for a short eternity, has me sobbing in pants and doing my best to be a still statue of strength and failing entirely by time he tosses those wicked tools aside and smooths his bare palms over the mess. </p><p>I feel it dip and peel, the blood gliding slick but he digs fingers and claws into each groove until I'm shrieking and screeching for air. </p><p>Mercy comes with a laugh and a soft kiss I can't return. </p><p>I'm choking. </p><p>"Breathe, love. Just breathe." I suck down his words and he keeps laughing, hands smoothing my face and over my head. I taste blood on my antennae, the sharp warning of <em>danger</em> hitting instinct so hard I'm trembling and he looks <em>delighted</em>. Kisses the smears from my cheeks. From my eyes.</p><p>"Still here?" He asks so sweetly and I crack a smile for him, watching his face light up like it always does. </p><p>"Still here baby... Intermission?" I sound raw, tasting blood. Guess he cut something deep. It's hard to tell when everything is dizzy fire.</p><p>We both laugh then, knowing the code, but he just shakes his head and sits back heavy enough I choke on my humor. Grinds that cute ass on my cock and damn I'm so hard it actually hurts over the injuries. </p><p>"No. No snack breaks tonight~ I think I'm up for the second act of you are…?" </p><p>I know it's pathetic but I'm fighting a groan of relief he doesn't need to <em>eat me</em> to get into the mood, my lower hands pulling bloody claws from his hips to guide the slow rock he starts so his bad legs don't have to strain. I feel his tail thump, straight into my balls, as a reward that has me chirping softly. </p><p>"<em>Fuck</em> yes. Whatever you want babe. <em>Please</em>." I never get my hopes up but tonight I'm praying. Any god in Hell <em>please</em> just let him want to-</p><p>"Let me up. You're overdressed~" </p><p>
  <em>Thank you god.</em>
</p><p>I don't even care when he braces his forearms on my shredded chest as I lift his hips and shred our shorts off. Fuck those scraps. The feeling of that firm ass on my bare flesh, rolling in cautious circles makes my eyes blank for all focus on my dick. </p><p>My morbid little monster is steps ahead of me, playing at being sweet in my distracted state, but I nearly jump out of my skin when a blood slick hand brushes past me to his hole. Just the <em>idea</em> of what he's doing to himself is almost too much, sending me chittering and pulling on the bed posts again. </p><p>"Babe, Al, let me see...<em>let me see</em>." I'm begging. Fuck it, I'm pleading and all I get is a cute smile. </p><p>"<em>No~</em>" The teasing kiss makes me snap at his lips but he's quicker than me tonight, just out of reach, but before I can growl he shifts and sinks himself in a single stroke that makes me lurch upwards as sure as those blades. Now I hear <em>him</em> whimper, lithe frame trembling at the invasion he's never quite adapted to. </p><p>It strokes my pride and breaks my heart every time. </p><p>Fuck he's tight, too tight. It hurts like it always does when his guts are choking my cock but I fucking love it. Every flex and writhe as he sits perfectly still and fights to relax. He hates it and loves it and we take a moment of panting silence we both need before he slips fingers into those first deep cuts and uses my ribs as handlebars to raise himself on the flesh spearing him. </p><p>"J-just going to...to lie there? Dear?" Shaking and so painfully cute I almost nod but my hands move to help him. I'm cruel but I'm not <em>that</em> cruel. Not to Alastor.</p><p>After the first few guided motions he gives me control, chin dropping to his chest and just holding on as I lift and drop him on my cock. He's crying, I know he is, but he's hard and dripping a steady line of slick pre and it mixes with the blood he's chewing his lips into to mute the soft mewls he's dropping every time his hips hit mine. A mess down his chest and thighs.</p><p>I don't bother. Every filthy thing in my head comes out my mouth, half words and praise, half sounds and groans and hisses because he stays tight and I feel every ridge of my flesh in him, the constricting heat working fast to undo me and I <em>refuse</em> to break before him. Never before him. Not in this. </p><p>It's fast and brutal, a sharp end to our sharp game but we both need it so, <em>so</em> badly. Any other day I'm gentle with him, taking the gift with love but tonight is blood and pain and <em>healing</em>.</p><p>I know he's close when he babbles my name, static rising in discordant pops around him but he always comes with a strangled sound of surprise. Head back and eyes glowing and fucking <em>beautiful.</em> Like he's forgotten what it feels like. </p><p>The sight unmans me every goddamn time. </p><p>I fuck him through it, bucking him off the bed until he's wailing and can't focus on the feeling of my orgasm filling him until he's leaking cum around my cock. Holding his hips to mine with blood on my claws until the white light fades from my vision. </p><p>Another quiet moment beside our ragged breathing and the whine of his waves in the air. Neither of us fit for conversation until he releases my bones and pats my stomach awkwardly.  </p><p>"Up." Tiny and tinny and I obey without question. Pulling him off my softening flesh and relishing the mess he leaves even as his lips twist in disgust. Settling him beside me and working to free my upper arms as he discreetly wipes his cheeks and curls against my side. More than happy to accept both right arms around him once I'm loose from the bed and able to hold him. </p><p>"Let me get my head and I'll take ya to the bath." Our usual agreement but he surprises me by shaking his head. Face hidden all I see is a mop of red ears.</p><p>"We can rest. You need those looked at too. Just...give me a moment." Quiet but reasonable and I settle back to find the base of one ear, massaging around it like he hates to love. </p><p>"Alright baby. When you're ready." There is just a soft hum in answer, a bit of quiet and then the soft warble of him snoring. It's so fucking cute but it's also enough to make my throat tight.</p><p>So tired. So hurt. My sweet little monster that I almost lost…</p><p>He gives my afterlife meaning. The least I can do is bleed quietly and let him nap. </p><p>"Love you Alastor."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If ya liked it, awesome. If ya want more, yell at me. </p><p>I might make a new Twitter later for stalkers but till then you can always stalk my man. No @ but here's a hint. Hes definitely Always fully dressed. </p><p>Love my fluffy little dancer so dont throw hate.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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